Severed Time
by Lionfire42
Summary: The Autobots were always strong. But having family to protect makes them only stronger. When an old foe realizes this, he sets out to destroy the family they have created-by insuring it never came to be. His goal? Disrupt the event that started it all-11/29/10, the first meeting of the Autobot named Arcee and a human named Jackson Darby.
1. Chapter 1

Drifting.

For vorns, that was all he'd done. Not quite here, not quite there. Somwtimes he had a body, other times he was spread across the space in between, or was nothing more than a spirit.

At first his mind had gone. The fact that he was neither dead or alive was impossible to comprehend. He'd gone mad, one of the few times he'd ever posessed anything seemingly emotional.

He was gone. And yet...he was not. Perhaps that accursed god really was looking after his children, for something held him, kept him from slipping into the brink. It was only a thread-but it was enough.

Time passed. He regained what dignity his limbo-held corpse retained. He began to think. And he began to plot. There were moments of solidification, where he was able to reach from te space into the worlds beyond.

He was like an angel...or perhaps a demon. He traveled the space in between, veiwing the various dimensions at his lesure. He saw his comrades, whatever passing as his blood in the place boiling as he veiwed that bumbling idiot of a Seeker bluster and swan about in a position that he couldn't have- shouldn't have- gained in a thousand vorns.

And occasionally, he looked down at his foes. He watched in disbelief as, despite their small number, the Autobots managed to keep their nemies at bay. And for what? A pathetic little planet.

It had been a wonderous moment when that loud mouthed, big horned Autobot had finally been tossed into the scrapheap to rust. He'd watched in delight as the Autobots expressed their displeasure, their dismay at being forced by their mighty leader to defend a bunch of organics smaller than the size of their pedes.

And then, in a single moment everything had changed.

The Autobots became victorous, powerful. The Decepticon forces began to ever so slightly dwindle, and Vechicon troopers began to fear gong on missions for the first time in vorns.

The Autobot swam in their victory. But so they would drown.

He searched for the key, the trigger that enabled them to begin to gain for the upper hand. And now, finally, he had it. He'd dismissed it before, not beliving it could be relevant. A mistake he would never have allowed himself before.

The Autobot's victories had begun with a single moment, a time spanning no more than five minutes.

And he intended to change it.

There was a chance, of course, that the timeline could repair itself onced tweaked. But he intended to insure that that would not happen.

After all, with two catalysts, how could he fail?

* * *

**I am sorry to say that I am giving up on Change of Hands. I tried to plot out a possible route for the story, but could not. It was stale and tasteless, and didn't have much thought process besides, "Jack gets powers". I might decide to countinue it later, but the possibility is slim.**

**So now in the place of "Change of Hands", I give you "Severed Time".**

**Review Please!**


	2. Chapter 2

The Vechicon had a loose T-cog.

He could feel it rattling slightly within. He'd taken one too many knocks from Starscream, and somehow it had jarred loose. While it didn't cease his ability to transform, it made it slower and more uncomfortable. Especially that one slightly frayed nerve. If tweaked too much it triggered his transformation into any form. How annoying.

But he'd rather take messed up insides than no insides at all. Knockout had the tendency to scrap troops rather than repair them.

He started as he and his partner recieved a communication from the ship. Moments later, they were cruising along the streets of a small human town.

Perhaps it wasn't all bad, the Vechicon mused as he extended his scanners for the Autobot target. If the Autobot hit him hard enough, maybe she would trigger a transformation and he could get the drop on her.

About twenty minutes later, they had her.

The Vechicon felt a thrill of excitement as she came into veiw. She was a small thing. Fast, yes, and agile, but small and not much firepower. Plus there were two of them against her one. She didn't have a chance.

_If she didn't have a chance_, a small voice whispered in his head, _how is she still alive?_

He sighed internally. This was true. Since the Autobots refused to use clones in their army, any veteren warriors from the Great War were either very skilled or ridiculously lucky. Probably the latter in the case of Cliffjumper. It was anyone's guess how a bot with such a loud mouth had managed to keep his teammates from pitching him into a cannon barrel and letting it rip.

Suddenly, in a series of tricky manuvers, she was gone. The Vechicon released a honk of fustration.

* * *

In the space in between he looked down into the past. He'd waited patiantly for his body to retain a semisolid state. It wasn't enough to throw a punch, but he had just enough control to give a tickle...

* * *

It came suddenly. One moment he was just cruising around, searching. The next, he felt the nerve within tweak, and he was stumbling struggling to retain his balance-in his robotic mode.

In front of approximately thirty humans.

Their was a whine of movement and the Vechicon snapped his gaze away from the awestruck human towards a human eating establishment. He saw a blue, riderless motorcycle doing a rapid U-turn in the parking lot, and felt a surge of panic. The Autobot was trying to escape!

He vaulted over an SUV of stunned humans and fired several shots in front of the Autobot's path. She wheeled around again, but by now the Vechicon was in front of her. He shot his fist forward and caught her by the side, sending her spinning back towards the midle of the lot. She transformed and midair and now it was truly a clash of titans.

Ignoring the screams of the humans, he rushed forward, firing, forcing the two-wheeler to retreat directly in front of the KO, as the humans called it.

She was fast. But if he could take out one of her assets...

He fired another shot towards her knees and she dodged again. But the shot continued forward...

...just as the double glass doors opened.

The human stepping out was a tired looking one, with bags under his blue-grey eyes, and his raven hair looked a litle greasy. Other than that, he was good-looking by human standards, if a little grave. Strange headphones were drooped about his neck and his eyes were full of wary curiosity.

This was all the Vechicon managed to observe before his shot tore through the human's body like paper. Flesh sizzled away faster than one would think possible,and the bones crumbled away like ash. A burned piece of shattered rib survived long enough the embed itself into the plaster walls behind it. The human's mouth popped opened, but other than that, he made no sound as he collapsed and the light left his eyes.

Unfortunately, the shot countinued on it's path, hitting the floor, and more importantly, the gas lines beneath the weak, cheap tiles.

The bright light came from nowhere. It engulfed the Vechicon and the Autobot. The light hurt, badly. The Vechicon felt the pain reached an unbarable level, and he screamed until his voice box smoked, the smoke mingling with the rest coming from his body.

And then there was darkness, and everything faded away.

* * *

The Con from the space in between looked down at his work and allowed himself a chuckle. It had gone better than expected. The threads of time and space around him began to arrange themselves and warp.

He was exhusted from his effort, but it was worth it. As he resumed drifting, he felt more real than he had been in vorns. At last he had tipped the scales.

At last, the Autobot's days were numbered.


	3. Chapter 3

Something was wrong.

The Matrix never led Optimus Prime astray. It gave him the truth when he could not see it with his optics. It allowed him to make decisions based on his spark rather than his head.

The world around him seemed different, out of focus. The light seemed to shift as he lifted himself from his berth. He felt random fluxes of illness in his tanks, and he rested against a wall for a moment on his way to the main area.

As he walked into the open area, his unease only increasd as took in the sight of Ratchet working on the computer, though he did not know why.

"It is late, Optimus," Ratchet said without turning. "I was about to come wake you. You are almost late for your daily report."

Optimus frowned. _Daily_ report?

"Has the government changed Fowler's sceduale?"

That made Ratchet turn, his ridges raised. "Fowler?" he said slowly. "We haven't had contact with Fowler for months remember?"

His head claimed it was true. His spark told a different story. After centuries, he knew which to listen to.

"Perhaps Mr. Prime's...processor is malfunctioning?"

This voice came from the human area and Optimus turned to see a suited, expressionless man sitting on a wooden chair next to a plain foldout table. He held a notepad and pen, and looked at the pair behind darkly tinted sunglasses.

Optimus's mind provided him with a name, _Special Agent Domain_. Yet his spark twitched. His internal systems told him it was Saturday, and the agent was there 24/7. Yet he felt horrified inside. Where was the tv and the furniture? Where were the game consoules?

Where were the kids?

Again his mind scoffed. What kids? They had never had any contact with human youths.

No! Where was the excitable Miko, the shy Raf, and...Jack.

Jack. Noble. Intelligent. Humane. Reliable. The greatest potential for a Prime he'd seen in centuries. The best friend of his loyal second...

...who was no where to be found.

What in Primus's name...?

"Optimus Prime!"

Optimus jumped, and turned to see a furious Ratchet.

"You are late for your report, and I have called you _twice_ without you responding in turn! Examination table! Now!"

Optimus licked his lips. "Err, perhaps there is something wrong indeed, my old friend. I think I shall take a drive to clear my processor."

Special Agent Domain, who had been writing rapidly in his notepad looked up. "You are going for a drive, sir?"

Optimus nodded, and Domain stood up, stretching. He turned around to pick up his phone from the table, but whipped forward again as Optimus transformed and drove straight out-without him.

He rushed down the stairs, his face beginning to turn crimson. "Prime!" he bellowed at the robot's rapidly disappering taillights. He turned to Ratchet furiously. "What is wrong with him? He knows the rule: 'no Cybertronian is to leave base without a government approved escort.'"

He turned and stormed back up the stairs, leaving a dumbfounded Rachet staring down the entrance tunnel. "My superiors will hear about this breach, of course," he ranted. "Whatever is going on in that aluminum excuse of a brain of his, _you_ better fix!" He turned on the stairs and glared behind his sunglasses. "_Doctor_," he sneered.

Rachet responded by turning away to his computer.

* * *

"Sir?"

Leland Bishop, aka Silas, turned to a masked soldier. "What is it?" he asked, his scarred face glowing in the light of the computer screens.

"We have picked up a Cybertronian signal." The troop looked down at his datapad. "We have confirmed it to be that of Optimus Prime's"

Silas smiled. "Well then. Let's prepare a warm welcome."

"Yes, sir. Should I alert Scalpel?"

Silas thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No, I will do it. I want to see the progress of our other guest's...operation."

He turned, and disappered down a set of dusty stairs into the warehouse basement. The next room over was brightly lit and it made the rest of the basement look pitch black.

He walked into the lit area, taking in the sight of the speciman strapped to the large stone slad on the floor. "How are things so far, Scalpel?"

"Well enough," a woman by a bank of computers answered, her mask making her voice scratchy and rough. "The data is incredible, as is the design. I personally suggest we utilize the legs on the project."

The specimen made a noise. Scalpel sighed, annoyed. "Silence, Airachnid," she said to the armless, legless mass on the table.

Silas cleared his throat to get her attention again. "Do hurry, Scalpel. I expect to have Prime's body on that slab soon."

"I will hurry with the rest of the disection then." Scalpel picked up a buzzsaw and turned it on. It's scream filled the room.

Silas nodded and turned to leave, then paused. "Will you knock her out before...?"

Scalpel lifted her mask and pinned him blue-grey eyes as cold and hard as steel. A strand of raven hair dropped over her face. "Do I ever?"

Silas nodded and turned away as Scalpel dropped her mask back in place. As Silas ascended the stairs, the squeal of metal on metel followed him.


	4. Chapter 4

Optimus rolled down the highway slowly, trying to get his bearings. His mind continued to whisper facts and tidbits of information-information he knew to be false. Was this some type of Decepticon trick? There had been mind-altering devices implemented a few times during the war…

What he needed to do was find the children. Children that he apparently didn't know.

He had to get to Jasper.

Ten minutes later, he slowed down even more. Instead of the small town of Jasper, he'd gone the wrong way. He had to have gone the wrong way, or perhaps his optics were playing tricks on him. Because the town was gone. Instead, there was what appeared to be a massive military base surrounded by miles of barbed chain-linked fence.

Several Humvees rushed out of the steel-gate entrance. "Halt!" a voice barked from within the lead car. "Confirm your identity! Are you metal or organic?"

Metal or organic? This was wrong. This was all wrong.

Optimus transformed and opened his arms in a peaceful gesture. "I am of Cybertronian descent," he called. "And an Autobot ally."

"Where is your government escort?" the voice barked.

Optimus reeled back. "Escort?" he echoed.

"Where is your escort?" the voice barked again, harsher this time.

Optimus was speechless.

"If you do not have an escort, we will have to detain you. Commence standard procedure: revert to vehicular mode and initiate stasis. You will remain as such until interrogation and/or pickup."

Optimus saw little alternative; the soldiers were powering up weapons he had no doubt would hurt him. Best to go along until he could speak to Ratchet. As he transformed, he saw an armored truck begin to back out of the gate, with a large crane attached to it's back. He groaned mentally. They were going to tow him? With an internal sigh, he shut down.

* * *

An explosion forced him back online. He was still in vehicle mode, with a strange restriction on his front tire. He frowned as he took in the contraption. What was it called again?

A door burst open, and a stocky soldier with a buzz cut hurried in, flanked by two others. "Get that boot offa Prime!"

Ah. So that was what it was called. As Ratchet would have said, it was very demeaning.

"Prime! We need you out there! Your little escapade today brought MECH to our front door! I got men dropping like flies 'cause of you!"

"I did not mean to-"

"Shut up, and focus on getting your metal ass out there! If MECH wants you, then you're either going to fight or fall to their hands."

The yellow boot fell away, and Optimus swiftly transformed. The room he was in was metal and seamless, except for the practically invisible door on one side, and another, larger door opposite. Buzz Cut hurried and slapped his palm on a piece of plastic by the large door. The plastic glowed green and door slid open, allowing Optimus to rush out, weapons drawn.

The Prime vaulted over a group of soldiers who were stuck in a gun fight with several masked men. Optimus barely spared them a glance, preferring to simply swat them aside with his hand. The masked assailant smashed into the walls and Optimus hurried on, smashing after them through several walls into the night air.

Outside, it was a literal war zone. Green cars and black military cars sat aflame, their occupant's skulls cleaned of flesh and set in burning, crumbling grins. Dark green helicopter engaged in fire fights with hovering jets, their burning turbine the only indication of existence. The screams of both sets of men and women filled the air as stray shots from above ripped apart their limbs. The sound was more hideous than anything Miko's guitar could ever have dredged up.

When the helicopter caught sight of the red titan, hell fell upon the Prime. Bullets rained down on the red armor like deadly rain. Optimus hissed as some slugs got into his joints.

His mighty guns emerged and a storm of blue fire brought down not only the pesky chopper but several others. The night air was full of a choking mix of gasoline, smoke, blood, and dust.

A blast sounded behind him, and Optimus ducked as a streaking projectile sailed over him, taking out an army jet. Optimus turned, unleashing a torrent of blasts into the offending tank. In moments, the vehicle was reduced to a mass of white-hot molten metal.

A clinking sound got Optimus's attention and he looked down in time to see the EMP grenade detonate.

He cried out in agony as the electricity washed over him in a halo of painful light. He dropped to his knees and fought to stay conscious as spasms wracked his frame.

A hook dropped down from a hovering green transport helicopter. They meant to take him, he realized. They probably thought him unconscious.

With a terrifying roar, Optimus stumbled to his feet and leapt up with aching knees. He seized the helicopter like some metal King Kong and growled as he began to tear it apart. Inside, soldiers howled in panic. A familiar voice was barking orders. Optimus's optics narrowed. Silas.

He drew back an arm, and punched straight into the helicopters belly, tearing vital components and sending MECH's men flying through the air.

The helicopter began to rapidly lose altitude, before completely failing, and sending itself, and the Prime attached to it, to the ground.

* * *

Silas groaned as regained his senses. He was hanging halfway out of the copter window, sharp glass poking into his flesh. His head pounded and it wasn't just the bumps and bruises he'd suffered. The helicopter was completely vertical, as it was clenched in the Prime's fist. The Autobot's right elbow was propped up, having landed outside the crater created by his fall. The wrist was limp.

Wiggling forward, Silas lost his grip and tumbled to the ground, twenty feet down. A sharp crack and the rush of pain told him he'd broken his leg. He could still hear the sound of gunfire as his men exchanged firepower with the fort's defenders. But for now, he was safe.

Something smashed into his skull, and he hit the ground, having nearly gotten up. His leg twisted and he cried out in pain.

Scalpel stood over him, a thin stream of blood flowing from a tear in the top of her head, her mask gone. She wasted no time with a gloating speech, a final comment. She simply fired at the Prime's elbow.

The EMP bolt hit it and disengaged the tension it used to support it's position. The arm fell down, still clenching the helicopter and crushed the MECH leader, reducing him to a mess of shattered bones, smashed guts, and torn flesh.

Scalpel ignored the mess, and walked around to where the Optimus's optics flickered weakly. His great head turned to stare at the figure approaching him. There was a moment of silence.

"June…?"

Scalpel fired.

* * *

**I always wondered how baddass the producers could make June. Oh, well. We can dream.**

**Please Review!**


	5. Chapter 5

Scalpel wasn't going to allow her satisfaction to show. No, had disciplined herself, both as a nurse and as a MECH operative. She had Optimus Prime in her grasp now, but she would not get overconfident, nor would she get complacent, as Silas had.

Silas's death had been planned out for months. He'd signed his death warrant, when he refused to quest out to destroy all the Cybertronians that polluted their world. He preferred to scuttle about the end of battles, pinching of parts like a beggar. Disgraceful. The Cybertronians only saw them as a nuisance. But now that she had one of their leaders, dangling below the helicopter she rode in like a lazy spider, she had no doubt that they would sit up and pay attention.

Just as she planned.

She was troubled however-how did Prime know her name? She resolved to find out, whether he told her, or whether she had to take it from him.

* * *

Optimus came online slowly. He could hear people talking around him, and he experimentally strained his arm ever so slightly. Unsurprisingly, he met resistance. Keeping his optics offline, he strained to her what was going on around him, and felt his spark skip as the name MECH was mentioned several times. Anything involving a Cybertronian and the rogue group meant trouble. And since he was apparently the said Cybertronian, that meant _he_ was in trouble.

A familiar voice cut through the quiet chatter. "Leave. All of you."

June? Optimus thought of the last time he'd seen her, at the military compound. But his optics must have been glitching, because he could have sworn she was dressed in MECH garb.

He heard the voices diminish and the sound of feet moving. A door clanged and then there was silence.

"Open your optics Prime. I know you can hear me."

Optimus complied-the tone of June's voice seemed too dangerous not to. Craning his neck as much he could, he saw the woman bathed in the light of several computer screens, their orange glow making her appear somewhat demonic. She stood stiffly, arms behind her back, blue eyes boring into him with a strange mix of contemplation and utter loathing.

"June? Wha-"

June reached over to a small panel on the side and flipped a switch. Optimus's optic widened as volts of electricity wracked his frame. He spasmed violently, the pain rendering him utterly mute.

Then it stopped and over the sound of his cooling fans, Optimus heard June calmly say, "Quiet."

Optimus blinked away the pain as June continued to speak. "You have uttered my name twice now. How do you know of me?"

Optimus froze. What was she talking about? Her son came to base every day. Of course he knew of her…

Or did he? His mind whispered a false truth, one he refused to think on.

The electricity tore into him again and he grunted painfully.

"I asked you a question, Prime." June continued to stare at him, her eyes as powerfully capable of tearing into a bot's spark as her son's. "I expect you to answer me."

"Don't you remember, Ms. Darby? You came to base often," Optimus shook his head slightly, struggling to throw off the false truths. "You were kidnapped by Airachnid. She sought revenge against Jack."

Once again the switch was flipped. When it was over, the June spoke again, though her voice had a more ragged edge to it, like she was struggling to hold in a torrent of boiling rage. "You lie. You dare use my son's name? You dare slander his memory to save your pathetic hide? What did you do? Scan the internet for his obituary?"

"Obituary?" Optimus strained against his bindings. "For Jack?" Images flicked through his processor. A burning restaurant , shattered and melted armor, blue and pink and purple and black…

"You're a smart bot, Prime." The nurse's mouth stretched into a bitter snarl. "Don't tell me the fall messed up your processor. Do I need to remind you what your kind took from me? My son, my wonderful, only son. One of your precious Autobots got him killed as he started to come home from his job. The female if my sources are correct. At least that bitch got a taste of her own medicine." She laughed cruelly. "But what could you care, O protector of humanity? Your warrior is dead. Who cares about all the people she killed? Her precious memory must be preserved. Who cares how much she moaned and moped about her precious partners? She carried your symbol. Surely she must have been in the right."

Optimus's processor whirled in a sickening mixture of pain, confusion, and horror. Jack was dead? Arcee was dead? How could this be? It couldn't, simple as that. This was wrong, all wrong.

June took in a shuddering breath and composed her features into a smooth mask. "Perhaps Airachnid is partly to blame for her part in shaping your Autobot. It is just as well she fell into my…tender care." She let that statement hang for a moment. "But you are to blame as well. And that is why I plan to take personal pleasure in your dismemberment. But don't worry-your parts will go to a good cause. They will be used on my weapons to help rid this planet of your kind."

An alarm sounded suddenly, and the screen flicked to show a masked MECH operative. "Sir, the tracking device worked. The Autobots have been sighted three miles down. ETA, five minutes."

"Excellent. Prepare for combat."

The soldier nodded and the screen cleared. Scalpel turned back to the horror-struck Prime. "You warriors come rushing to their leader's aid. And they all shall suffer your fate."

Scalpel turned away and walked of the platform into the darkness of the base. And then it was silent, save for the sounds of struggle caused by what looked to be the very last of the Primes.

* * *

**Wow. Can I make June evil, or what?**

**Review Please!**


	6. Chapter 6

Bumblebee couldn't believe what he was doing. He never thought that he'd be on a mission to rescue his leader, let alone from a radical group of tech-freak terrorists. But here he was, speeding along the dusty highways of Jasper, with a steamed special agent in his front seat.

"Prime should thank his tin-can ass he's important," Domain seethed. "One hundred thirty-four dead soldiers, all on his head. And if MECH cracks him open, it's _my_ job on the line! Anyone else, and we could have just been good with a simple assassination."

Bumblebee squished the anger that churned within at the liaison's words. A part of him wished that Fowler was still around. Yes, the man had been a pain, but he at least was lenient in how he criticized. Too lenient, his bosses claimed.

After all, if he'd been tougher, maybe he could have made an impact on how Optimus commanded his troops. Maybe his words could have pushed Arcee to stay after Cliffjumper's death.

Maybe that boy wouldn't have died.

He'd been angry at Arcee, after what she did. And then he'd felt bad, so he'd been angry and the boy, that Jackson kid. And then he'd felt terrible.

But now as he drove along, all the inner turmoil seemed to fade almost as if...as if the Well itself had accepted him. He could almost see the bright fabled blue coming forth to embrace him.

Wait...

The scout tried to swerve, to stop, to do something. But Domain had seized his steering his wheel, and was yanking on it, and he started to scream at the stupid human, but it was too late, too late...

The weapon was shaped like a javelin, with a ragged head and a shaft long and flat. It glowed blue with flaming energon. The flame was more than enough to slice through Bumblebee's armor like hot butter.

The head tore through the windshield, cutting into his neck and nearly decapitating Domain, but unfortunately not enough. He had time to scream once more as the flames washed over his head, burning his skin and boiling his brain and frying his eyes. The flames burned his neck, sizzling fleash and burning his spine until it snapped, allowing his burning skull to fall at his still jerking feet.

At the same time, the bladed shaft tore through Bumblebee to embed itself in the street below. Tearing into his spark, the scout's momentum forced him forward, while the shaft tore him nearly in half.

Four hundred yards down the road, to MECH grunts winced.

"Opps."

"Scalpel won't be happy."

"Nope. Sh really wanted those guns."

**Short yes but I'm still alive!**

**Please Review!**


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